


Morning Star

by AngelicGrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Demons, Drabble, Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicGrace/pseuds/AngelicGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before there was life and love, before God himself, there was darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Star

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an origin story type thing for "The Darkness". I am writing this BEFORE season 11 airs, so I have no idea what they will actually do with it in canon.

Before there was life and love, before God himself, there was darkness. Nothingness was common, back then. There was no Creator, after all. Yet that begs the question, who created the darkness? The answer is fairly simple: no one at all. It’s just one of those things, it’s always been there, and always will be.

The darkness was all seeing and overwhelming and alone. But the light, as with many things, began with a spark. It was small at first, and out of that tiny spark came creativity and hope. Out of that spark came two brothers.

  
They made a striking picture. One was tanned and healthy, gentle smiles and naïve happiness. His twin was pale and gaunt, with sunken cheeks and eyes too jaded for one so young. And thus began the careful equilibrium between life and death. The new God created, and his brother Death destroyed, and there was no place in this new universe for darkness. But the dark was patient, hiding itself in an untouched corner of this new creation, and waited for its time to strike.

In every culture, there is some kind of origin story. A hero arises to defeat a powerful evil, transcending overwhelming odds to restore the good. But humans have never really understood the delicate balance between what is “good” and what is “evil”. Some begin in the light and sway to the dark, while others walk the elusive line in between. Such was the fate of the angel Lucifer.

  
His Father named him the Morning Star, and his Grace was bright, powerful. Everyone knows this much of the story, and none ever thought to question the fate of God’s best and brightest, His favored son. Everyone is told that Lucifer was weak, that he had an inherent flaw within him that made him proud, but that was never the case. God made no mistakes. His son was precisely the way he was meant to be (until he wasn’t).

  
If Lucifer had one failing, it was his curiosity. He pestered his older brother Michael for answers until Michael, laughing, finally sent him to his Father with all the questions he couldn’t answer. Lucifer was ravenous (as many small children are), asking his father, _How? Why? What? When?_ As he attempted make sense of the tangled knot of mysteries that was his universe. But there was one thread, one knot that he never should have unraveled.

  
The stars were his playgrounds, and he wandered about the corners of the ever-growing universe, flying ungracefully on his too-large wings. He stumbled upon darkness, tucked away in its hiding spot, as it lay in wait, biding its time .He was no match for the force older than Death and life and time itself. It overpowered him, burrowing deep within the orifices of his mind, preparing to exploit his flaws. Lucifer craved answers, he craved knowledge, and when God created humanity (his new favorites), the darkness sent him one all-encompassing question, a question he’d always been asking.

_W h y ?_

From this question came rage, a tiny flame the darkness coaxed into a roaring blaze. The dark possessed him. Few things could possess an Angel of the Lord, forcing him to lose his righteousness, his sense of self, but a force made of pure evil and nothingness could do it. The whispers and rumors began among the angels, of their high and mighty brother who began to have thoughts of rebellion. They compared him to a comet, saying that maybe he was always meant to fall from grace. Shooting stars are meant to burn, not to last, and so he fell.

  
The darkness used him the way an angel would use a vessel, and he became a puppet, an obedient marionette. He screamed, trapped within his own grace, and the darkness smothered his cries. And then Cain and Abel were born, and Lucifer found his way to take control of himself again. The darkness whispered to Abel, until Cain stepped in, killing his brother to save him. As Cain wept at his brother’s body, the field around them streaked with blood, Lucifer looked upon a worthy man and was moved. He fought the dark, thinking of his own brother, thinking of Michael and what he would do if he were forced to kill his own brother. Lucifer took control, and compressed every bit of the darkness possessing him into a tiny mark, branding its fiery power onto Cain’s forearm. But the darkness lashed out, permanently scarring his grace with its evil.

  
Lucifer forgot the darkness. It fought too hard as it left him, taking his memories with it, but the doubt and rage stayed. The negative emotions are the ones that you remember, after all. And Lucifer was cast down to hell, with his bitterness and fear, and he stayed there. The first demons were born within sulfur and hellfire and burning flesh, and they cast their black eyes adoringly at their lord. He slipped easily into a slippery persona, placating its new creations with poisonous manipulations and veiled threats.

  
Lucifer was good, once. But in the end, all that mattered was what others remembered, not what happened. But that’s how stories are. That’s how they live on within our minds. You’re not supposed to sympathize with a villain. Everything’s supposed to be clear-cut; one character is 100% good, the other is 100% evil, and good always defeats evil. Always. Yet the fates of heroes are never kind, and those of heroes who choose their own fate are even less so. Lucifer learned that, and the Winchesters will too, if they haven’t already. Nothing good comes from being a hero. It’s better to wait in the shadows, operate in the darkness. Darkness is patient, though not kind, and it always finds a time to strike.

**Author's Note:**

> This was more drabble than anything else, tbh i don't even know...some constructive criticism would be great though!


End file.
